


Crocodile Tears

by mobbu (denji)



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, One-Shot, Oneshot, Physical Abuse, Reader-Insert, References to Depression, Sad Ending, Self-Harm, Suicide, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-22 11:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22515517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/denji/pseuds/mobbu
Summary: Judar doesn't want to acknowledge what he's done.
Relationships: Judal | Judar (Magi)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 67





	Crocodile Tears

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by maokitty's Birdcage --> https://archiveofourown.org/works/17821775  
> not super based around magi lore. hope you enjoy.

**TW SUICIDE/SELF HARM**

The first time that Judar meets her, she reminds him of himself. Subconsciously, of course. He would never even consider maybe that's the reason why he hates her so.

She's absolutely pathetic.

All whiny tears and cowering sobs; she's nothing.

She's scared of the inevitable and the things that have already happened. She _absolutely_ pathetic. The bags under her eyes are the most noticeable part of her ugly face, the oily skin reflecting the light around her. The edges of her eyes were perpetually rimmed with a moist pink, her hands always absentmindedly wiping away her tear streaks. He hates everything about her.

Her feet were always turned inwards, making her look even more pathetic than she would've just standing there. Her back was always slouched slightly; never straight. Her eyes would always avoid everyone else's. Hell, it seemed like she couldn't even walk without someone guiding her. Why did she cry so much? Why couldn't she just _stop_? If she was in so much misery why didn't she just kill herself?

He didn't care. He knew that he would never really care about those questions. So why the hell did he always ask her when he saw her?

"Why haven't you died yet?"

"If you're so unhappy then just change it."

"Stop being so arrogant. Don't look at the ground when I speak."

Judar never bothered to ask her any questions besides these when he saw her. Sometimes, when he felt the urge to change it up, he would beat himself down by saying that she didn't deserve that attention. That she was just another narcissistic girl who went to any means to bring herself the attention she craved.

The foreign girl was about as cowardly as they come. 

Judar hates talking with her because she never says anything. She just sits there with her hands folded in her lap, eyes threatening to spill the tears gathering in them. Her sleeves are always long, covering every inch of her arms and more.

”You should show some more skin. No princes would marry someone ugly like _you_.” She can only nod at his insults, jaw clenching and chest heaving. Any noise she wants to make is caught in her throat. As much as she hates to think, she knows that some parts of his words are right.

* * *

The second time he sees her, he was looking for her. The king of her country had arranged to meet with Kouen and she was told to come, her father seeing that she was the only one Judar would ever talk to. He’s bored — he wants to play with something.

”Hey. Bitch.” He floats at her doorway, shocking her. She can barely let out a scream, quickly rolling her sleeve down and shoving something under her pillow. “What are you doing? Playing with yourself? Aren’t you supposed to be pure?” The young princess doesn’t know how to reply. Her face burns with guilt, knowing that what she was doing was probably worse. She doesn’t know what to do, so she agrees.

”Yes, Lord Magi. Please do not tell anyone.” Her voice wavers as she bows her head to him deeply so that he can’t see her face. Her hands shake as she bunches the fabric of her dress in large fistfuls. He laughs. 

“Why should I do that?” She knew that he wouldn’t comply. Begging was all she could do. Silent sobs wrack her body as she bows deeply, getting on her knees and placing her forehead to the ground. She knows that she will get beat, whipped, or even killed if he tells someone. Judar laughs with a sickening note in his voice, suddenly floating down. He roughly grabs her chin to face him, seeing her puffy red eyes and sticky tears dribbling down her face. He slaps her harshly, the loud sound making the silence afterwards nearly unbearable. A glazed look overcomes the girl and her tears stop. She closes her mouth and looks down in shame, Judar letting go of her chin harshly.

”Don’t ever waste my time like this again.” He leaves her kneeling there, a red mark spreading across her right cheek and her cheeks drying.

That night, she is beat mercilessly by her father, bruises forming up and down her back and ribs. Her face, collarbones, and hands are left intact for more advertising. She can barely cry, knowing that every attempt at escape or joy is futile.

* * *

During his third visit, Judar seeks out the girl again. Her Rukh are turning red. Not pink, but a bloody _red_. Oddly enough, her Rukh don’t affect the others around her. He enters her room and she just stares out of the window, like always, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She runs her thumbs over her knuckles again and again, her face seemingly deep in thought.

”Oi.”

She flinches, her nail biting into the soft skin on her hand. She turns and bows her head. 

“Magi, do you think anyone would care if I died?” Her voice is gentle, but there’s a suggestion in her tone that she wants an answer — she wants confirmation. She needs the last push to get where she wants to go. He scoffs and stands at the doorway, absolutely no thoughts of concern going through his mind. What was she trying to do?

”You don’t have the guts. All you do is cry and cry, and you never do anything about your situation. You’re weak.” He avoids answering the question, an uneasy knot developing in the pit of his stomach.

She looks up at him, her sullen [eye color] orbs meeting his red ones. There’s an indescribable feeling that overcomes him, her dainty Rukh floating towards his own. He feels...fear? Not fear for death; the primal urge to run when being chased: More of a fear for what she would do to herself. After a long moment, she smiles. He feels nauseous. A grimace stretches across his face, a new feeling digging itself into his heart. 

“Thank you, Magi.” 

Her Rukh dance with his, a intertwining of red and black. He stares at the air, to her he is just spacing out. He furrows his eyebrows. The red Rukh is dissipating. It is almost disintegrating. He sees a ghost of a butterfly, fluttering through the air before resting on the shoulder of the girl. The Rukh collapses. Judar stares at her again, finding that she has turned toward the window once more. 

He leaves from the window she’s staring out of. She seems surprised, the rush of wind accompanying the Magi stepping onto the ledge. Her eyes lock with his once again as she observes his every action. He scoffs, turning his eyes and face away from her. It’s a nice view from her room. Five stories up, after all.

”If you really wanted to die, you could just do — _this_.” He jumps from the window with a yell of excitement. She scrambles to get up, looking all around. Panic surges through her for no apparent reason. Did he die? She nearly falls out, craning her spine to see where he had gone.

A pain lurches through her neck, feeling her braid being yanked as her body stumbled back into her room.

”I’m a Magi, you dumb girl. I wouldn’t die even if you tried to kill me,” he snickers, watching her massage her scalp. A clump of hair is torn from her head. His eyes narrow; the saliva in his mouth suddenly drying. “You, on the other hand, you would’ve just gone _splat_. So don’t try that again.” She stands there for a moment. The black-haired boy leaves, leaving the girl to ponder on what had just transactioned. Her mind races, sudden adrenaline pumping through her veins. She hikes up her skirt and heads to the ledge. She is a weak girl, always crying for no reason. 

She wipes her tears, vowing that she could do something right for once. Her hands find their way to her sides and she leans forward, seeing the garden beneath her. She leans further. Air rushes past her ears, as if chastising her to do what she was so afraid of. She recalls the words of the Magi. 

She puts a foot forwards and leans harder, feeling her body floating for a brief second before the plummet. He ground gets closer with each passing millisecond and her body feels like it’s getting heavier. Her eyes close and she does not brace for impact. 

She never feels herself come in contact with the ground. As a matter of fact, her body feels like it’s floating. Maybe she was dead.

”What did I just fucking tell you?” The Magi seethes, genuine loathing in his voice. She opens her eyes and turns her head to the voice. She’s about six centimeters from the ground. He flicks his wrist and she falls to the ground, dust covering her clothes. “Are you so fucking incapable that you can’t even listen to basic instructions? Huh? Are you _stupid?”_ He’s angry. Maybe the angriest he’s ever been. Veins raise in his head, a furious red rising up his neck and cheeks. 

She stands up, bowing to Magi once more. 

“I am sorry for wasting your time, Magi.”

* * *

The next time he finds her, it’s out of pure luck. She’s in a bazaar, far, _far_ away from her home kingdom. She’s selling peaches. It has been a long time.

He lazily takes a basket and flips the merchant he’s not looking at a silver coin, starting to turn away. A flutter of red Rukh floats past him, his always half-eyes opening a slight bit more. He turns, staring at the merchant. They are selling peaches to another costumer, a head scarf wrapped tightly around them and their face. He uses wind magic to send the flimsy pieces of cloth flying away, seeing the girl he hated so much standing in front of him. 

She looks older. Her height has increased a bit as well as other things. Her hair barely reaches past her chin and her face was rounder. Above all else, she looks healthy. Her cheeks give off a rosy glow and her movements are much more relaxed. She looks shocked at the sudden motion, but her eyes soften nearly immediately. She completes the exchange of peaches with the other costumer and pockets the money, reaching down to get her scarf.

”Hello, Judar,” she greets him nearly grimly with a slight nod. He can only look at her. He doesn’t know what the say, but the strange emotion he was feeling all those years ago was coming back. Not love, not empathy — something else entirely. 

He clears his throat.

”So you’ve finally decided to do something?” She smiles an indecipherable smile and looks away, rearranging the peaches in their baskets. She chuckles.

”Yeah, I guess I have.” 

”Long way from home, huh?” For the first time ever, he’s shy. He doesn’t understand why he feels so small under her gaze. Judar doesn’t like the feeling one bit.

”It really is. What are you out here for?”

”Bored. Hungry.”

The conversation reaches a lull as she begins serving the next customer, trying to entice them into buying more peaches than they needed. His mouth feels dry again. 

”[Name], I’m —“ Judar can’t finish his sentence. Shame flushes through his system as you just smile. 

“It’s fine, Judar. Don’t worry about it.”

His reluctance to leave as he watched her red Rukh float around was apparent. Another new feeling surged through him, a second knot developing in his peach-filled stomach. He finally pinpoints the emotion. _Guilt_. His harsh words rush back to him and nearly knock him over with their pure resentful force. The cruelty of his actions never ceased to amaze him.

And yet, he can slaughter and slaughter, destroy and destroy, yet have this woman render him completely powerless by doing _nothing?_

He knew that couldn’t care less about the villages he wiped out and the villagers he murdered, so he was perplexed as to why he felt so _bad_ about this one person. 

”Hey, Judar?” Her voice snaps him back to reality. 

”What?” He snarls, his feet lifting off the ground once more. He floats above her, wanting to feel like he was somehow still able to control himself around her. 

”There’s a line forming behind you. If you’re not going to buy anything, could you go? If you really want to talk, we can do that later.” He clucks his tongue and buys out her entire stock. He vows that he will never seek her out again, for the emotions she makes him feel are that of which he hates.

* * *

He breaks his promise. 

He ventures back to small bazaar, hoping that he can buy peaches from her again.

Judar finds her small set up empty. The bustling crowd moves around him. An old woman is next to him, bargaining for spices. 

”Are you looking for [Name]?” She asks him, looking at his expensive jewelry and exposed torso. He pauses for a second and nods. 

”Oh, poor girl. She committed suicide a month ago. God knows what drove her to do it. May she Rest In Peace, that angel.” The old woman chokes up as she sighs, maybe the memory of [Name] becoming too overwhelming. Judar stares the woman with an empty look, his nervous smile dropping from his face. He stares at his feet as the world sways around him. She killed herself?

Judar feels the emptiness of the air around him. The Rukh that are flying about are white, pink, black. Red was nowhere to be seen. He leaves the bazaar empty handed, flying back to his room in the Kou Palace in almost no time. 

Later that night, he rewinds the moments he spent with her. He goes over each meticulously and tries to remember if he hadn’t noticed something he should have. He knows. He knows that he deliberately ignored something serious. Judar remembers seeing the knife she hid under her pillow and telling himself that she was just scared for burglars in the night. He remembers seeing the scars and cuts lining up and down her forearms when he was at the bazaar and telling himself that she was just _clumsy_. Immense anger floods through him, his fists clenching as he sat in his dark room, wondering why she was gone.

” _If you’re so unhappy, then why don’t you just change it?”_

His own merciless words come back to mind, finally realizing what he had done wrong.

Waves of sadness crash over his system, threatening to burst past his eyes. When they finally do, he dismisses them as crocodile tears. He doesn’t want to acknowledge what he has done.


End file.
